Medicine and Manners #2 (19 page)

“Not at all,” Alexandra said, ignoring the pain in her leg. “I can manage well enough if you will again provide your carriage.”

“Of course I'll provide the carriage, but I want you to know I strongly object to your doing this,” Nicholas said.

“Duly noted,” Alexandra said as she made her way out of the back room of the mortuary and to the reception area in the front, where Percy was still standing. “Thank you, Percy. I've finished my work.”

“Murder, though it hath no tongue, will speak,” Percy said.

“You've quoted Shakespeare this time, not the Bible,” Alexandra said as she hobbled past him.

Percy spoke to Alexandra's back as she left the room. “Are you quite certain?”

By the time the carriage arrived at Mrs. Fontaine's cottage, Alexandra had given Nicholas her theory about the poisoned honey.

“You came to that conclusion simply by looking at Dr. Abercrombie's body?” he asked.

“Not entirely,” she said. “It finally occurred to me that I was seeing signs of poison in Deputy Poole's organs without realizing what I was seeing at first. Then I realized that all of the victims had exhibited the same mixture of a sweet odor and a foul smell—honey and the soured contents of their stomachs when they vomited. I haven't examined George Payne's body, but I suspect I'd find the same thing. Also, I've done rather a lot of reading on the matter of poisons in the medical texts my father left me. And I've compared that information to what I was seeing under the microscope. I'll admit it took some time for me to understand, but medical knowledge is always evolving, as you know.”

“And you suspect Mrs. Fontaine? Absurd! You may as well think she's the legendary horseman!”

“Not impossible,” Nancy said. “Even at her age, you'd be surprised at what the human body can do, when properly maintained over the years.”

“You and Nancy thought a man was pursuing you. Who do you surmise that to be?”

“I'm not ready to say yet.”

As they approached Mrs. Fontaine's cottage, Alexandra could see through one of the windows that she sat in her chair, alone but for her cats. She stared straight ahead, apparently at nothing.

When Nicholas knocked on the door, she didn't move, except to place a hand on the cat that rested in her lap.

“Mrs. Fontaine,” Alexandra called, leaning heavily on her crutch after making her way to the door.

Still no verbal response.

Nicholas knocked again and this time gave the door a gentle push. Not locked, it opened slightly. “Excuse me,” Nicholas said, opening the door a little wider. “May we come in?”

When she failed to reply, he repeated the question.

“If you must,” she said, without getting out of her chair. She most certainly was not her usual welcoming self.

“Are you not well?” Alexandra asked.

“Well enough,” she said. Alexandra thought it odd that she had not remarked on the fact that she was limping on slings. It was as if she had expected it.

“We would like to ask you some questions,” Nicholas said.

Mrs. Fontaine looked at Nancy for a brief moment and seemed as if she would comment. Instead, she turned to Nicholas.

“What is it you wish to ask me, my lord?”

“Were you at the Gladstone house earlier today?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, but nothing more.

Nicholas pushed harder. “May I ask why?”

Again, she didn't answer.

“Did you come hoping to see me in the surgery?” Alexandra asked. “You're in need of medication, perhaps?”

After an uncomfortably long pause, she asked, “What is the real question you want to ask?”

Alexandra took a deep breath. “We came to ask what you know about the recent rash of deaths of Freemasons in Newton-upon-Sea.”

“I know a great deal,” she said. It seemed for a moment that she would say no more, but then she added, “I killed them. All of them.”

At this shocking confession, Alexandra regarded the woman she long knew with something akin to anger. Finally she spoke. “You, who once told me God gave us life and it should be nourished in all creatures.”

Mrs. Fontaine didn't respond.

Finally, Alexandra spoke again. “Please tell me how you came to murdering anyone and why.”

Mrs. Fontaine's face crumpled slightly. “It doesn't matter, does it? The only thing that matters is that I confess that I'm guilty.”

Nancy moved closer to Mrs. Fontaine's chair and knelt beside her. “Excuse me, but we have reason to believe the deaths are connected to the mysterious Templar horseman. That could not have possibly been you.”

Mrs. Fontaine's expression changed again. This time, Alexandra saw fear.

“Of course I am no horseman. That was only some poor soul looking for the treasure that's buried under the temple.” Her mood abruptly changed now from fear to nervous agitation. “It's really there, you know. Part of the Templars' treasure. No one knows how much, but…More than one man has come here wanting to take it. Perhaps this one was a bit overly dramatic. I suggest you ignore the whole thing.”

“Mrs. Fontaine,” Nicholas said, his voice quiet, “I'm truly sorry to do this, but I must go for Constable Snow and bring him back here. He will arrest you, of course.”

“Of course,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “I'm ready.”

“Don't go yet,” Alexandra said. “Mrs. Fontaine needs to answer one more question.” She turned toward her. “Why are you protecting the killer?”

“Protecting? I don't understand.”

“You didn't kill anyone,” Alexandra said, “but you know who did.”

“My dear, I have no need to protect anyone, and I just told you, I am the guilty one.” She was still stroking the cat in her lap, who had fallen asleep and was snoring loudly.

“You are not the killer, but you should tell us who is,” Alexandra said.

“What are you saying?” said a flabbergasted Nicholas. “Who is she taking the blame for?”

“It's someone she's known for a long time,” Alexandra answered. “Though I don't understand why this person would allow Mrs. Fontaine to take the blame. It seems a cruel and heartless thing to do to someone who has been so kind to everyone in the village, but then, of course, we must accept that anyone capable of murder is capable of anything.”

“Stop trying to blame someone else.” Mrs. Fontaine's voice was choked. “I killed those people.”

“Very well,” Alexandra said. “If that's the case, tell me why.”

Mrs. Fontaine looked up at Alexandra, confusion mixed with her tears. “Why? They were all bad men.”

“You don't really believe that,” Alexandra said. “You've had good things to say about almost all of them in the past.”

Mrs. Fontaine took a shuddering breath. “There are things I know about all of them that no one else knows.” Her expression was something akin to pleading. She wanted to be believed.

Alexandra studied her face for a moment. “All right, my lord,” she said, turning to Nicholas. “Bring the constable here. And bring Judith Payne as well. She will want to know who killed her father.”

“Don't bring her here!” Mrs. Fontaine's voice trembled. “Leave her alone. She's suffered enough.”

Nicholas hesitated for a moment before a hint of understanding came into his eyes, and he moved toward the door.

In the meantime, Nancy picked up the cat sleeping in the chair next to Mrs. Fontaine's chair and sat down. Holding the silver, silky creature in her lap, she leaned toward Mrs. Fontaine. “I must ask you a question unrelated to all of this.” She spoke in a quiet voice as if she wanted the conversation to be confidential.

“What is it, Nancy?” Mrs. Fontaine said, sounding terribly weary.

“It's about Dr. Gladstone's dog.”

A surprised frown creased the elderly woman's forehead. “Zack?”

“Yes,” Nancy said quietly and with a sly glance toward Alexandra. “He ate something poisonous, and I suspect it may be a plant growing in the doctor's garden. The doctor is no help,” Nancy said, whispering. “She knows nothing about plants.”

“What does this plant in her garden look like?” Mrs. Fontaine asked.

“Shrublike, and the leaves are about like this,” Nancy said, holding her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart, “and the flowers are purplish with yellow spots. Lots of seeds. The plants spread themselves everywhere. I thought 'twas a weed at first, but perhaps not. Not much scent to the flowers.”

“Rhododendron, I should say, and yes, it is indeed poisonous to animals,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “Dogs as well as cats. That's why I never grow it. You must caution Dr. Gladstone to have them removed.”

“I'll do my best,” Nancy whispered.

Alexandra, who had been feigning disinterest, glanced involuntarily at Nancy, surprised that she had lied so easily. Nancy knew there were few flowers at all and no rhododendron growing in her garden. Obviously Nancy suspected, just as she did, that the popular flower was the source of the poison for all the victims, including Zack. She wanted to find out whether or not Mrs. Fontaine cultivated them in her garden.

“I hope you gave poor Zack something to help him expel the poison,” Mrs. Fontaine added.

“Oh, I did,” Nancy assured her. “I believe he will be all right, but I just wasn't certain what had caused it. Neither was the doctor. She knows about people, now, doesn't she? But animals? I'm afraid not.”

Mrs. Fontaine said nothing as Nancy kept her seat beside her. Alexandra, still sitting across the room, abandoned her pretense of sorting through her medical bag and moved to another chair nearer the two of them.

“You have known me all of my life,” she said to Mrs. Fontaine, “and you've known my family all of your life.”

Mrs. Fontaine nodded, but with a distracted expression.

“I'm sure, then, that you can understand that I don't want you implicated in this sordid business.”

Mrs. Fontaine took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You are kind, my dear, but you must do your duty.”

There was another silent, awkward stretch of time until Nicholas finally returned with Constable Snow and Judith Payne in tow.

Judith rushed toward Mrs. Fontaine as soon as she entered and knelt beside her. “Oh, my dear lady, please tell me, what is this all about?”

Mrs. Fontaine looked at her, agitated. “I told them to leave you out of this. It's no concern of yours. You must leave immediately.”

Judith was equally surprised. “But…I don't understand. I was told—Constable Snow, Lord Dunsford—they said you asked for me, that you were distressed about something. They wouldn't tell me why.”

“They lied to you,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “Now you must leave.”

“Mrs. Fontaine has just admitted that she committed all the recent murders of Freemasons here in Newton-upon-Sea, as well as that of your own father,” Alexandra said.

Judith jumped to her feet. The blood drained from her face, leaving it sickly pale, and her eyes were wide and fear-filled.

“Alexandra! Shush!” Mrs. Fontaine scolded. Agitated, she tried to rise from her chair. “Judith, leave immediately.”

“I don't understand.” Judith's voice was weak and trembling.

By contrast, Alexandra's voice was firm. “You don't understand that Mrs. Fontaine has just confessed to the murders you yourself committed?”

Judith's face had turned a sickly color. “I've killed no one.”

“You're willing to allow Mrs. Fontaine to take the blame and pay for the crimes with her life?” Alexandra asked.

“I…”

“Stop it!” Mrs. Fontaine said. “Stop trying to make her confess. I'm the guilty one.”

There was a moment of chilling silence until Constable Snow finally spoke. “Very well, Mrs. Fontaine, stand please, and place your hands behind your back.”

As Mrs. Fontaine struggled to get to her feet, Judith took a step toward Snow. “You're going to put her in manacles?”

Snow didn't answer, but the manacles made a clanking sound as he pulled them from a strap attached to his trousers. He helped Mrs. Fontaine up and clasped one side of the metal restraints on one of her wrists.

“Wait!” Judith cried. “Take those monstrous things off her.”

“It is my duty, Miss Payne, however unpleasant it may be,” Snow said, without looking at her. He secured Mrs. Fontaine's other wrist with both hands behind her back. The old woman was slightly stooped, as if she was uncomfortable, and waited to be led away. When Snow took her arm to guide her, she made her way toward the door in slow but unfaltering steps.

“You can't do that! She is innocent!” Judith cried. She turned toward Alexandra and spoke in an angry voice. “You're right, Dr. Gladstone, I killed them. All of them. Yes, my father as well. He deserved it more than any of them.”

“Judith, I am old,” Mrs. Fontaine said. “My life is almost over. You are young, with everything to live for.”

Still holding Mrs. Fontaine's arm, Snow turned to Judith. “What do you mean your father deserved it more than any of them?”

Dropping into one of the chairs, she covered her face with her hands. When she looked up, she had regained some of her color, and she looked directly at the constable. “You would have been next, Constable,” she said. “You're just like the others—no better.”

Snow did not respond.

“You were lying about your father killing your suitors,” Alexandra said. “Why?”

“My father tried to kill my own spirit by dictating whom I could marry, by forbidding me to marry the man I loved. Isn't that worse than anything I've done? To try to destroy a person's spirit? To assume you have that right just because you are male? But worse, he wouldn't allow me to go to school. I am a mere seamstress, when I could have been more!”

Snow took a key from his pocket and unlocked the manacles while Mrs. Fontaine shook with sobs and repeated, “No, Judith, no, no.”

Nancy went to her side and led her upstairs. When Judith tried to follow, Alexandra and Constable Snow stopped her, each with a hand on one of her arms.

“Why did those men—or Constable Snow—deserve to die?” Alexandra asked. “And what gave you the right to decide?”

“I did it because no one else would. I did it for justice. For the rights of women!” Judith shouted. Agitation had changed her face from white to red.

“Justice?” asked a baffled Alexandra. “The rights of women? I don't understand,” Alexandra said.

Judith gave her a look of disdain. “I admired you so much, but I see now that you have become complacent, like most women.”

“Perhaps you could explain,” Nicholas said. “All those men you poisoned were decent, upstanding men.”

“Poisoned?” Judith asked. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Dr. Gladstone”—Nicholas nodded at Alexandra—”is the one who realized you'd poisoned them with honey made by bees who'd eaten the pollen of your rhododendrons. Although I didn't know you kept bees, as Mrs. Fontaine did.”

“I discovered them once when I was trying to keep Zack from destroying her garden, but I didn't put it all together at first,” Alexandra said.

“Clever,” Nicholas said, before he turned to Judith. “You may think her complacent, but she is a remarkably intelligent woman and an astute doctor.”

“Yes, intelligent and astute,” Judith said, her voice full of rage. “Those qualities matter not to the world, though, because she is a woman. Her gender holds her back, just as it does me. Am I less decent and upstanding than those men who held me back?”

“Held you back?” Nicholas said. “How did all those men you killed hold you back?”

“They denied me the right to Freemasonry!” she shrieked.

“My dear, Miss Payne, you are quite irrational,” Snow said. “You, as well as the rest of the world, know that Freemasonry is a brotherhood.”

“Ha! What of your Masonic devotion to equality? Are women excluded from equality? Is it not a good thing for womanhood to aspire to the betterment of all people? To benevolence and devotion to God? To freedom of the individual mind, to the great attributes of a World Order? When you deny a woman admission to your ranks, you are denying yourself, and you have become a hypocrite! Your aprons that symbolize purity are hypocritical. It made me sick to think about it when I sewed each one for all those men. Symbol of purity, you say! I smeared each one with blood from my own body. I defiled them the way you have defiled words like
equality
and
freedom
!”

“Miss Payne, surely you know that your own father—”

“The worst of a bad lot,” she said, interrupting Snow. “The descendent of a founding member of the Temple of the Ninth Daughter who denied his own daughter the opportunity to make the world a better place by joining your numbers. Oh, how I admired my father's devotion to making the world a better place through Freemasonry. The same devotion was present in his father, and his grandfather, and all of the Payne men before him. It is my calling, my destiny, to be among those who stand for such beauty, but without your hypocrisy.”

Snow's voice was remarkable in its calmness. “Freemasons cannot all be painted with the brush of hypocrisy, and certainly not the Temple of the Ninth Daughter.”

“Ah, yes, the ninth daughter,” she said. “That name is itself ludicrous. You christen yourselves in the memory of a woman, the ninth daughter. The ninth of the nine muses. She was Calliope, the goddess of inspiration, the muse for Homer's works. You name yourselves for a goddess and forbid women to join your ranks.”

“None of what you say justifies murder,” Nicholas said.

“Leave her alone!” Mrs. Fontaine said. “She's a distraught child.” The woman's sudden appearance in the doorway surprised everyone in the room. Nancy stood behind her, looking worried.